Evolution
by Nutella-in-a-bowl
Summary: We know how Ajay Ghale's story went in Kyrat and how he came across the devilishly flamboyant Pagan Min, but how did Ishwari come to meet Pagan?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

 **The chapters will go from present day to 1988 and there's no set point of view. Yes, this will be long and it'll take me a while to write but I'm hoping to get this as accurate as I can.**

 **In the future chapters, there will be some sexy stuff going on so stay put for that at least ;)**

* * *

 **Present Day**

Ajay Ghale, a 26 year old man from Kyrat, is returning to his homeland to spread his mother's ashes in Lakshmana, Kyrat, to grant her final wishes. He had very little memory of Kyrat itself as he was barely a boy when he lived there, but listening to his mother chatter passionately about the place on her deathbed made him feel excited yet anxious about visiting.

The bus he was on was shabby to say the least, but somewhat charming. It was heavily decorated with bright oriental tapestries, wall hangings and decorations. The gentle tinging of bells and charms created a calm setting as the bus moved clumsily over the rocky mountainsides. There was the overpowering smell of incense which coated the air and a thick layer of different kinds of smoke clouded the atmosphere.

There were about six or seven other people on the bus: Darpan, Ajay's escort, who was a middle aged man with messy slicked back hair, a greying braided beard and the look of a thousand years of experience on his scarred face; four armed men in military-like outfits with yellow headscarves and armbands; a middle-aged woman wearing a wrap on her head who never put down a cigarette and also seemed to have a friendship with the monkey which sat next to Ajay; some mysterious guy who sat at the back of the bus silently wearing aviators and the driver, who was armed heavily for whatever reasons. It made Ajay nervous to see so many guns around, but he was warned about that by the American Embassy who warned him not to travel to Kyrat due to the civil war which was very active. Ajay heeded the warning, but wanted to fulfil his mother's wishes so overlooked them.

"Passport," Darpan said, his Indian accent thick. Ajay anxiously handed his passport to him, and Darpan generously slipped in some Rupee bank notes into it. He gave the young boy a reassuring smile, " _Breathe._ I'll do the talking." Ajay took his advice and took a deep breath. He took out the silver urn with his mother's ashes in it from his coat and looked at it, running his finger lightly over the engraving which said _"Ishwari Ghale, 1968-2014_ ". It comforted him, to a certain extent.

"Passports!" The driver called, as they pulled upside a military barrier. Ajay glanced nervously at Darpan, who nodded his head, reminding him to relax. Aviator guy tapped Ajay to get his attention and handed him his own passport. Ajay took it and handed both his and Aviator's to headwrap lady, whose monkey friend snatched off Ajay but the lady bonked it on the head and took back the passports.

Armed Royal Guardsmen had surrounded the bus. The driver was off the bus, showing the passports to two of the guardsmen, trying to reason with them and get answers.

"What's happening?" Ajay asked, his heartbeat accelerating as he rose from his seat.

 _"Sh-sh_!" Darpan hushed, holding out an arm as he started peering out the window to see what was going on. Ajay couldn't understand a word of what language they were speaking, but it seemed the driver was asking what the hold up was about. In the distance the whirring of a helicopter could be heard and the volume of voices began to rise to match the level of noise.

Ajay cautiously looked out the window and saw guardsmen poking around at the bus, as if they were looking for something, perhaps an excuse to start chaos? Then, one of them found something suspicious and things quickly became heated. There was quiet nervous hubbub on the bus amongst the yellow-banded people, and they were quickly glancing at one another as if waiting for a signal.

The officer talking to the driver smacked the passports out of his hands and guns were raised. At this point, the yellow-banded soldiers climbed out the back doors of the bus and attempted to flee.

"Golden Path!" Ajay heard one of the guardsmen call out. There was a sudden burst of gunfire towards the people trying to escape. Aviator guy and the bus driver pulled out their weapons and began shooting at the Royal Guardsmen, and there were bursts of blood in every direction. All Golden Path fighters got mowed down like sheep. The yelling and shooting continued as the guardsmen started aiming at the seemingly innocent people on the bus, including Ajay.

"Get down!" Darpan commanded. Him and Ajay ducked for cover as there was smashing glass, screams and cries for mercy, but they were quickly cut off by gunshots. Everything was so loud: the helicopter was getting closer, people were shouting louder and the gun battle seemed to be ongoing.

 _"Go!_ " Darpan urged, pushing Ajay in the direction of the back doors of the bus. Clambering frantically Ajay made it out, only to be harassed by soldiers. He was blinded by the light of the sun flickering through the helicopter's blades, though he could make out guns which were pointed at him.

"Get on floor! Get on ground! _Now_!"

Ajay looked at Darpan for guidance, who was face down on the ground covering the back of his head. Ajay crawled to the floor, doing the same as Darpan but looking upwards, carefully watching the guard pointing a weapon at him. An injured officer tapped Ajay's pursuer on the shoulder, pointing quickly at the helicopter and he relaxed his gun.

The helicopter landed and things slowly became still.

From the helicopter jumped a man: he was oriental and had a shaved head, all aside from a layered tuffet of bleached-blond hair which sat on the top of head, covering his left eyebrow slightly; he had high cheekbones and a prominent jawline. One of his ears was pierced and wore a diamond stud, creating a camp appearance for the man. He wore bright pink embroidered trousers, dark maroon shoes, and a black tightly-fitting military jacket to cover a suit jacket which matched his trousers.

He stood there silently for a moment with his hands in his pockets, taking in the scene before him, before dramatically putting his face in his hands. It was Pagan Min.

Pagan paced over to the injured officer who was, to put it lightly, pissing himself.

"I distinctly remember saying 'stop the bus'," Pagan spoke slowly, revealing a smooth British accent, "Yes. Stop the bus. Not 'shoot the bus'. See, I'm very particular with my words: Stop. Shoot. Stop. Shoot. Do those words... _sound the same?_ " He spoke the last line through gritted teeth as he clasped his hands together, awaiting a response.

"But it got out of control," the officer mumbled quietly. His voice quivered as he spoke, and Ajay could see him shivering. Pagan put his hand on the officer's farthest shoulder and got closer to him, his face almost at the man's ear. The officer flinched, squeezing shut his eyes at the contact.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," Pagan whispered, to mock his soldier. "What did you say?"

" _It got out of control._ "

"Got out of control..." Pagan repeated thoughtfully, reaching for a gold decorative fountain pen from inside his jacket. "I hate when things get out of control." He suddenly jammed the pen into the officer's throat, who was knocked to the ground by the force, but he didn't stop there. Pagan thrust all his strength into repeatedly stabbing his ex-officer, growling furiously: " _You. Had. One. Fucking. Job. And. You. Couldn't. Fucking. Do. That_!" He stopped and looked at the dead man for a moment, before collapsing with a sigh into a sitting position on the corpse. Ajay's heart accelerated in fear when he saw that his face was splattered in blood, unsure of what the unpredictable king would do next.

Pagan glanced down at his shoes and let out a dangerous groan of frustration, " _And I got blood on my fucking shoes_!" He smacked the ground angrily with his now-bloodied gloved hands. He proceeded to take a few momentS to calm himself down before looking at Ajay, his eyes suddenly lighting up at the sight of him and his face beaming. He waved an arm at his other guards to get moving, and he addressed the dead officer he was sitting on:

"At least there's a silver lining," he said, his voice taking on a kinder tone, "You didn't completely fuck it up." He stood, and held Ajay's arm to also help him stand up, "Get up boy! _Oh_ , I'd recognise those eyes anywhere..." Pagan chuckled and gave Ajay a grateful and affectionate hug, leaving the boy confused and a bit uncomfortable to say the least.

"I'm _so_ sorry about this," Pagan said apologetically, as if the whole situation was only a tiny mishap, "This was supposed to be...well.. _.not_ this." He patted Ajay's arm, "We have a party...waiting for you..." his voice trailed off as his cat-like eyes fixed interestingly on Darpan, who was still face-down on the ground. Pagan went over to him and crouched beside him, prodding him, "But I don't think I know your name. Who is this? Hm? Is this your plus one?" Pagan laughed at his own joke. Darpan didn't respond and Pagan laughed again. "Strong silent type. _I like it._ "

He stood back up, waving at his men to haul Darpan onto his feet. He was restrained and then had a sack shoved onto his head, covering his face.

"I am terribly embarrassed about all this," Pagan said to Ajay, "This was supposed to be very simple but you know if you give food to monkeys they just throw their shit at each other. _Oh!_ Would you hold this?" He handed the blood-covered fountain pen to Ajay, who reluctantly took it and tried not to touch the red liquid. Pagan reached into his pocket and retrieved a smartphone. "Just a moment, I want to get a little picture. Right at the camera-" He raised the phone and Ajay looked at it, not sure whether after all he'd seen it would be okay to smile or not. "There we are-" Pagan pressed the screen and got a picture. He beamed at it. "Awesome."

Pagan patted Ajay on the shoulder again, "Don't worry about a thing, my boy. This will soon be behind us and we'll be off on our grand adventure! " He started walking towards the helicopter, "Because I have cleared my calendar for you. You and I... are gonna tear shit up!" He punched the air excitedly but for Ajay, the lights went out as a sack was forced over his face.

* * *

Pagan was ecstatic. He was finally with the son of his beloved Ishwari. It had been years since he'd last seen him; Ajay was only about one or two years old but it completed Pagan to see part of Ishwari in front of him. True, he did have a potato sack over his head but he was still there nonetheless.

Throughout the short helicopter ride back to one of Pagan's commander's fortresses, he went over memories of Ishwari in his mind, good and bad. The beautiful fighter, the strong willed woman. The tigress, the spy- there were many names he used to describe her. It ashamed him to have been so involved with a woman like he was, but she had that impact on him and imprinted so many memories of her.

Two of the strongest memories he had oddly conflicted with one another: the first was the day they met, the second was the day Ishwari said tearfully goodbye and told Pagan she loved him before fleeing to America with Ajay. At that time Pagan was too wrapped up in grief from the murder of their infant daughter to truly consider his feelings for Ishwari, but as the time they spent apart got longer, his feelings strengthened. By then, it was too late.

But Pagan didn't like to think about that. The more he dwelled on it, the weaker he became.

* * *

Ajay suspected that must have been given a knock out drug of some sort because as soon as the bag was put on his face everything blacked out. When he woke up, he found himself sitting in a chair, still blinded by the bag. The smell of various aromatic curries filled the air, and he could hear the slightly muffled voices of two people: Pagan, and someone else.

"...oh, give my congratulations to Ashley on your next visit home," Ajay could hear Pagan say, followed by a relaxed sigh, " _Ahh, I must say,_ Paul. Your little corner of Kyrat here is rather beautiful. I expected more chains and wailing. But knowing you somewhere around here is a dark place where secrets flow like the blood." There was a silence before Pagan laughed: " Ahahaha! That wry smile betrays you again, De Pleur ..." Pause. " _Well go on, take the bloody bag off his head_!"

Ajay squinted at the light which stung his eyes as the sack was removed from his head. When his vision cleared, he saw that he was sat at a dinner table covered in many colourful dishes on the balcony which looked out to the stunning view of snowy mountains. Ishwari's urn was on the centre of table, next to a circular display of monkey heads surrounding a decorative incense holder. Ajay was facing Pagan, and on his right was Darpan and on his left was Paul De Pleur, one of Pagan's most trusted commanders.

"Again, _terribly_ sorry for what happened before," Pagan apologised, clasping his hands together sincerely, "This is more what I had in mind. So, fresh start! Introductions." He indicated to Ajay," Ajay Ghale, our guest of honour; Paul, our very gracious host; the little monkey whose name I still don't know..." He glowered at Darpan with a displeased expression before continuing, "And I, of course, am Pagan Min."

He smiled at Ajay but it quickly faded as he realised Ajay had no idea as to whom he was. "You...really don't remember me, do you? Your mother, she never spoke of me? Never mentioned me?"

Ajay shrugged. Never in his life had Ishwari mentioned "Pagan Min" to him, and he was beginning to understand why. It was obvious Pagan had some sort of problem with impulse control- he had a temper and was incredibly unpredictable; relaxed and calm one minute, uncontrollably violent the next. It frightened Ajay to the max but he tried to appear calm and relaxed about being kidnapped.

"Oh..." Pagan felt his heart stutter for a second but he quickly recovered, "Well, we'll change all that. Paul, I need cash."

"Uh, how much do you need?" asked Paul, taking out his wallet.

"All of it," Pagan snatched all of the bank notes from his wallet, confusing Paul for a moment. "Thank you. Here we are..." He held up one of the bank notes as a comparison to his face. Ajay sat in silence, not responding. "Hm? Alright..." Pagan took a different note and also held it up beside his face, "How about this? With the...the smile?" His lips curled, revealing his teeth in a very fake smile to match the one on the money. He cleared his throat and held out a third note to Ajay.

"That's you," Ajay said dully.

"That's me." He threw the money on the table, "Although, I'm not so sure anymore..." He then picked up the urn and took of the lid, looking at the remains inside, "Now your mother, on the other hand, she understood me." Ajay stood up in protest of Pagan's actions but Paul put his hand on his arm, setting him with him a look which said 'you don't want to do that' and Ajay sat back down.

"She knew me in a way which no one else did." Pagan put a finger in the ashes and sucked it, peering into the urn again. Ajay's stomach churned and suddenly the food on his plate didn't look appealing anymore. "Mm, that takes me back. The last time I saw Ishwari was...years ago. She told me she loved me... _Women._.. They can do that, they can tell you they love you in the moment and mean it. Men, on the other hand... No, men only really love you in hindsight. When too much distance has built up." His voice dropped at this last part and it captured Ajay's attention slightly. _Did this man really have relationship with his mother?_

"So..." Pagan continued, grabbing a fork and standing up, "When your mother decided to flee to the United States with you on her hip..." he breathed on the fork, rubbing it with his sleeve and standing behind Darpan, "...I couldn't help but blame myself. Then I realised 'i _t's not me._ ' No. It was the fucking Golden Path!"

He suddenly shoved Darpan's head down into the table and embedded the fork deep between his shoulderblades . Darpan cried out in pain, and Ajay didn't know how to react. He saw that Paul was grinning, obviously enjoying the free entertainment, but in no way did Ajay see this as entertainment and in no way was he enjoying it.

"Those fucking terrorists," Pagan told Ajay calmly, "they ruin everything. " His eyes were locked on Darpan. "Like dinner! Did no one ever teach you that it's rude to text at the table? Let me see here..." He went to grab the mobile phone out of Darpan's hand but he refused to let go of it. Pagan slapped at his hand whilst pushing the fork further into his back. "Give me the phone!" Darpan gave up and Pagan took the phone off him, showing it to the guards.

"Really guys?" he said, disapprovingly, "We're not checking for these anymore?" He read text messages on the screen, "Ah! 'I'm with Ajay Ghale.' You'll love this part," he smiled at Paul, showing him the phone, "'Help'. " Pagan let out peals of laughter, sneering at Dapan, who lay defeated on the table.

Pagan continued his torment: " _A text for help_?" he snickered, "You don't text for help, you cry for help. So come on!" He dragged Darpan up by the fork,. "You're going to cry for help. If you're gonna do something, you're going to do it right. Here we go!" He took him to the edge of the balcony for everyone below to see.

"Go on, cry for help," Pagan instructed. Darpan didn't obey. As a result, the fork was twisted deeper into his back. " _Cry for help._ "

"H-help," Darpan said weakly.

" _Aw, pathetic.."_ tutted Pagan, unsatisfied, "No. Cry for help."

"Help!" Darpan tried again, a little louder.

"Like you mean it, boy!"

"HELP!"

"Help! FROM YOUR DIAPHRAGM! 'HELP'!" It suddenly became some insane shouting competition.

"HELP!"

"HEEELP!"

"HELP! HELP-"

Ajay watched, sick to the stomach. He couldn't imagine how such a gentle soul like his mother could ever have feelings for a man so cruel and psychopathic.

"-sh, sh, sh, shhhh," shushed Pagan, putting a finger to Darpan's lips, silencing him in mid-cry. "Now we listen."

There was nothing, only the sound of gentle background music and the distant babble of life from far down the mountains. "Nothing. I'm afraid they're not coming for you, buddy. "

Pagan chuckled, removing the fork. Darpan doubled over in pain.

"Find out what he knows," Pagan instructed Paul, who waved at his men to grab Darpan and dragged him off.

The king smiled at Ajay, who was appalled by what he had just witnessed. "Terrorists, right? Now please, stay right here," he took his own phone from out of his pocket and dialling a number, "Enjoy the crab rangoon. Don't move. I'll be right back-... _Yuma, we need to talk_ -" he went away.

The son of Ishwari was left there confused, angered and disgusted. He had conflicting ideas: make a run for it, or stay and see what Pagan wanted with him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Kyrat, 1988**

It was a peaceful and eventful evening in eastern Kyrat. The Golden Path had conquered their seventh outpost, killing all Royal guardsmen there, which was nearly half of all the outposts in the area. Slowly but surely, the rebel group was growing and thriving in Kyrat, and the ruthless Pagan Min's patience was being tested right to it's limits as his men were murdered. He was showing his true colours; he'd betrayed the Nationalists after lying to them, killed the Royal Heir and then grabbed the thrown for himself.

This miraculous and brave uprising from the Golden Path was seen as an act from the Gods. Music played, people danced and families rejoiced together gleefully in relief ; all except one family- the Ghales. They were at their homestead, arguing for the Gods.

"Mohan, _please_ ," Ishwari tried for what felt like the one hundredth time, placing sleeping baby Ajay in his cot. "You're not giving me a chance here!"

"No, Ishwari," Mohan responded, tired of his wife's constant whining about the matter, "It's too dangerous. If I die, Ajay needs a mother."

"It's because I'm a woman, isn't it?" Ishwari folded her arms, glaring accusingly at Mohan, "Don't lie, it is!"

"No, my love..." Mohan used a softer tone cupped his angry wife's face in an attempt to calm her, "It's nothing to do with that. It's just too risky. You can't be a fighter for the Golden Path because you might get hurt. I wouldn't want that for you. War is no place for A Tarun Matara. " It didn't work.

"You know I'm worthy," Ishwari argued, taking back her face, "I don't care that I'm the Turan Matara. You know I'm strong and you know I'm good at defending myself. Just give me a chance! Isn't that what the Golden Path is all about? Giving people a chance?"

It bugged her so much that Mohan used the excuse "you're Kyrat's _Tarun Matara_ , if anything happened to you I would not be forgiven" over and over. Barely anyone remembered that Ishwari was the Tarun Matara, ever since her and Mohan had to go into hiding when the Nationalists were overthrown by Pagan. That, and many of those who remembered were slaughtered by Pagan's orders for "treason" for being involved with the Nationalists.

Mohan sighed. _She was right, but he couldn't let her know she was. He couldn't give into her, he couldn't let go of her that easily. He knew they were both stubborn and neither of them would give in. They needed to somehow reach an impasse..._

Then, an idea came to mind: i _f he sent her to do something which would scare her away from fighting, then she'd stop nagging him and be there at home for Ajay._

"Tell you what," Mohan said, "Spy on Pagan. Find a way to earn his trust and discover his plans."

Ishwari furrowed her eyebrows at the seemingly impossible task, "And how the _hell_ do you expect me to do that? I can't exactly just walk into his fortress and start demanding answers."

"No, but to our advantage Pagan's requested a peaceful meeting with the Golden Path in attempt to 'reason' with us. He'll arrive here two days from now. You should go. I'll tell the others right now, if you so wish..."

* * *

Two days later, Ishwari waited at the opium poppy fields of the village with two other Golden Path leaders, Lakash and Tibad, for Pagan Min to turn up with his men.

It was a surprisingly hot but pleasant day in the mountains, and the colours of the surrounding nature seemed to be brighter than usual and the air more humid than most days. Ishwari would much rather spend her day sat embroidering outside or spending time cooling off in the small waterfall outside the house, but this was important if Mohan was to gain faith in her.

Ten minutes late, Two incredibly noisy and ugly orange trucks with mounted automatic guns sandwiching a black but dusty Rolls Royce pulled up beside the fields, and Pagan Min climbed out the Royce wearing a bright green silk suit and open baby-blue shirt. Ishwari had never seen him before in person, only on Rupee bank notes, and was taken aback due to how attractive the man was; a man in his mid-twenties with high cheekbones, cat-like eyes lined in black, strong jawline and a slender figure. He had a very camp and flamboyant manner about him, but he didn't appear to match the rumours about being a heartless killer.

Pagan opened his arms, looking at them one by one directly in the eyes. His gaze remained on Ishwari the longest which made her uncomfortable.

"My, my, you've been quite a troublesome lot," he said, shaking his head and tutting, approaching the three, "And for what? Freedom?" He laughed at the idea. "Well, go on then. Give me your propositions. Don't hold back, I'm here to listen."

"We're a bankrupt country," Lakash said immediately, "There are hardly any job opportunities and barely any land which can grow crop at all. We need someway of making money and sustaining our land. The Golden Path would ens-"

"-And overthrowing me and my men will improve this country's state?" cut in Pagan, "This country was a mess when I got it. You're just looking for someone to blame other than me. _Next._ " He moved onto Tibad.

"We're not free to believe in what we want," Tibad said, "Our old traditions are threatened and anyone who speaks up gets shot. We need a free, breathable coun- "

"-Um, last time I checked one of our laws does give the people of Kyrat to believe in what they wish. I, however, sincerely apologise for the way my men have acted. I know they've been a little...freelance as of late. It looks like this meeting will be cut a little short..." He smirked as he moved onto Ishwari, who stared at Pagan in the eyes, unafraid. "And what have you got to say about all of this, my dear lady?"

"Medical institutions are needed to be renovated," she said, "More children are being lost in childbirth than ever and diseases which should be easy to cure kill off dozens of your precious subjects each week. A little contribution will hugely improve the health of Kyrat and restore their faith in you."

Pagan's jaw dropped purposely as he looked at the guard next to him in disbelief and nudged him with his elbow, "Did you hear that?" he asked, almost rhetorically, "She has the best idea about both of these mongrels. _A woman_. And it doesn't involve freedom or jobs or overthrowing me or any of that bullshit, but the health of my subjects!" He looked back at Ishwari, "You are a smart woman. I actually like that idea. What's your name?"

"Ishwari."

"Ishwari?"

"Ishwari Ghale."

"Ghale..." murmured Pagan, tapping his foot in thought, "Now, where do I know that name? _Ghale, Ghale, Ghale, gah-laaay..._ Oh! I know you! Your pesky little husband is the founder of the Golden Path and siding with the Nationalists. I'm so sorry you're married to such a dick of a man."

Ishwari couldn't help but smile. _Mohan was indeed a dick._

"It's no problem at all," she said, "I can handle him." Pagan's smile became genuine instead of cocky for a moment before he glanced at the two other Golden Path leaders.

"You two," Pagan pointed at Lakash and Tibad, "Run along. This woman is the only one who knows what she's talking about, and know what she wants."

The two men stood there for a moment both mildly confused and slightly annoyed, but obeyed the king. Pagan turned back to Ishwari, and indicated to the footpath,

"Care to take a walk with me?" he asked.

"Of course, my king."

"After you." The two started walking down the footpath, in silence at first. Ishwari was very nervous. She knew that the King wouldn't do anything like try to kill her but there was a certain level of unpredictability which surrounded him. She wasn't sure what he'd do or say next and that scared her.

"So," Pagan said, after a long pause, "Ishwari, was it?"

"Yes."

"So tell me, how else should I spend my money?"

"Providing the means to renovate houses so they're not primeval-like shacks would also help," Ishwari answered without hesitation, "And money towards hunting gear. Tigers and honey badgers are overpopulated."

Pagan chuckled, "So my people are being killed by tigers and honey badgers and they're blaming me. Oh, that's classic."

"It's not that they're blaming you," Ishwari parried, "It's that you're not doing much to help. Or anything for that matter."

"You have quite a tongue on you," Pagan commented, raising an eyebrow at the mouthy woman. Despite this, he liked the fact that she spoke up to him. _She was confident, not a coward._

"I was under the impression there were no laws restricting my freedom."

"Ooh, you're good."

Ishwari smiled gently, "No disrespect of course, my king."

"Evidently," replied Pagan, "You know what? I like you, Ishwari. In fact, I think I'll invite you to my fortress for, ah, next Saturday?"

Ishwari nodded, "That's fine with me."

"We can discuss Kyrat's future for longer then. But I am indeed a busy man with a busy schedule so I must be off. I'll take your suggestions into consideration but for now let's leave it at that." He turned to leave, before adding: "I'm amazed they'd let a woman into the Golden Path. Isn't it all about saving tradition, after all?"

"People only listen to me because I'm the Tarun Matara. If it wasn't for that, I'd be silenced all of the time."

"An intelligent and beautiful woman like you should never be silenced," commented Pagan. Ishwari nodded graciously before the king climbed into his Royce and left as loudly as he arrived.

* * *

"You were what?!" Mohan repeated in disbelief.

"I was invited to his fortress to discuss further business," Ishwari replied simply whilst scrubbing a pot. She was very pleased with herself that she had done a good job and proved her husband wrong. Mohan had not been expecting the meeting to have gone so well, let alone for it to have gone so well that his wife was invited personally to Pagan Min's fortress. He didn't expect this at all.

"And he trusts you?" he asked.

"Not yet. But he will." There was a silence for a while until Mohan suggested:

"Maybe when you go, you should take Ajay with you."

Ishwari turned around to face Mohan, a doubting look on her face, "What, _why_?"

"It gives you a softer image or something to talk about. There's something about an infant which eases people." They both gazed at the slumbering Ajay, who was drooling on his blanket and was completely oblivious to what was going on. Mohan continued: "You need him to trust you."

"I suppose," Ishwari replied thoughtfully. He had a point.

"Just..."

"Hm?"

"Be careful. It could be a trap."

Ishwari rolled her eyes, sighing and shaking her head, "I can handle myself, Mohan."

"Yes but can you handle Ajay, Pagan, and three dozen guards or more?"

"I just need to handle Pagan," replied Ishwari, "Besides. I think he has a soft spot for me. There was something different about the way he addressed me than the other two. He seemed to respect me a little more."

"Respect you?" scoffed Mohan, "Than man wouldn't know respect if it stabbed him in the eye. I heard he has his maids executed if they lay his bed out wrong. He is a monster, Ishwari. A complete monster with no compa-"

"-Don't start, Mohan. Don't...you weren't there." She sat down on a nearby chair, exhausted, "You can't judge someone for the rumours said about them, and that's all you ever seem to do."

She rubbed at her forehead stressfully, as the two remain quiet for a while. Mohan was leaned against the large full bookcase which rested against the west wall, rubbing his fingers together and counting his breaths to calm himself. They both knew that they needed to cool off before they began arguing needlessly again, or before anything became too heated.

"Ishwari," Mohan spoke softly, trying to get Ishwari's attention. Ishwari ignored him as he paced over to her. "Ishwari, look at me. Please."

Ishwari spared him an annoyed stare.

"I trust you, Ishwari," Mohan said quietly, kneeling down before his wife and holding her small hands in his, "I trust you with my life, with Ajay's life, with anybody's life. I should have more faith in you and I'm sorry I've been like...like this..."

Ishwari softened, smiling warmly at Mohan's apology.

"Thank you," she nodded in appreciation, "And we shouldn't bicker like this. It'll prove the elders right about our marriage."

Mohan smiled at her. "We can't have that now, can we?"

"No, we can't," Ishwari mirrored his smile and cupped his face, giving him a loving kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N Whoops, I haven't updated this story in quite a long time. For that, I'm sorry. I actually really liked where this was going and had some very promising ideas for it. I'm having a sort of writer's block for my other active fanfic, so this one will be getting a little love and care. This one is short, but I hope it gives you all a taste good enough for you to stick by!**

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While the Ghale family had a wonderful evening of romance and tenderness, it was dinner time at Pagan Min's palace. Like most nights, Pagan was sat alone at a table covered in dozens colourful delicacies and dishes at sunset, candles in beautiful golden holders and flowers setting the atmosphere. Naturally, he wasn't going to eat everything and he had no one to impress with the magnificent display but he liked reminding himself how rich he was and how he could actually afford all of that food. It would later be fed to the pigs.

The dining room's large doors burst open and Omar Langhari, Pagan's royal advisor, stormed in. It was a difficult job to have since Pagan didn't like to be told the opposite of what he wanted, which often ended in a gory death, but Omar had been the longest lasting advisor to date.

"What do you want with a simple village woman?" Omar asked, shocked upon hearing that he had invited her to the palace,"A village woman with a child had no place in the world of politics!"

"She has good ideas, Omar," Pagan said in a sing-songy voice, care free and dipping a crab finger into some sauce that cost more than what a villager would earn in a year. Omar scoffed, irritated at Pagan's care-free and simple minded attitude.

"But-"

"-You know," Pagan continued, waving the crab finger at Omar, "You'd be a lot more relaxed if you just sat down and had dinner with me. Come on, pour out some wine, kick back and relax. I know what I'm doing... unless you doubt that." His voice had dropped at the last part of his sentence and he eyed him up carefully. Omar suddenly realised that he was hinting a threat and remembered who Pagan Min was. He chuckled nervously and knew better than to refuse food from the king.

"O-of course," he stammered nervously, sitting down at the table, "I could never refuse dinner from my king."

"Excellent!" Pagan clapped his hands happily, "You must try these crabsticks, they are sensational." He waved at his head chef to come to him, who'd been waiting on the balcony as per his commandment for every meal. "Who made these?"

"Um, Shakri, my king."

"My deepest compliments to Shakri!"

"Um, you had him executed this morning, my king, for putting goats milk instead of cows milk into your coffee."

"Ohh yes." He laughed. He was quiet for a while and just ate, which made Omar nervous. When the king was quiet it was never a good sign, and everyone who worked at the palace knew that.

"See the thing is, my people don't like me very much. Not at all, to be honest. I haven't been the benevolent ruler that I've always wanted to be. I think that listening to an active member of the Kyrat community would be beneficial, for both my people and myself."

"Are we acting on their requests?"

"I don't know. Maybe. We'll see how well taking in their request fares with them and if it's more positive than negative then we can just... leave them alone."

"So we're taking their ideas but not acting upon them?" Omar questioned.

"Well, yes."

"What happens when they realise that's what you're doing?"

Pagan stopped eating his food and placed down his knife and fork. He went dead silent and stared at the table for a minute or two. The entire room held its breath, sensing that whatever was going to happen next wouldn't be good. Finally, Pagan looked up at Omar with a smile. It was a kind smile, though the meaning behind it was anything but.

"What _I'm_ doing?" repeated Pagan.

"Did I say you? I meant we. I definitely meant we," Omar corrected quickly. Hope for him, however, was long lost . The minute he questioned Pagan Min was the minute he'd signed his own death warrant. There were many psychological issues with Pagan and he was aware of all of them. They were mostly to do with his upbringing of Chinese mob activity, and his cruel father who'd never fully accepted him for being gay. He'd spoken to every therapist and doctor that was available to him until the story of his brain chemistry got rather boring to him. He didn't want to hear about what's wrong with him anymore. No one ever praised him for what he did right and that's what set him off. As king, he felt as though people only ever questioned him and for him that was the biggest trigger of them all. That was the reason behind his impulsive decisions and snap of the finger executions.

The truth in this case was that Pagan had gotten bored of Omar around a week ago, and set him up to slip the wrong words off his tongue so he could have him killed.

"I heard 'I'm'," Pagan said, standing up. He turned to his chef once more, "Did you hear 'I'm'?"

"Y-Yes, I did," the chef replied automatically.

"See? You said 'I'm'." He picked up the little pot of sauce he'd used to dip the crab fingers in. He showed it to Omar, slowly approaching him, "I quite like spicy foods, Omar. The crabsticks go amazingly with this one here. Made with the Reaper Pepper, I believe?" Without warning, he poured the sauce into Omar's eyes. He cried out in pain as the strong chilli burned him, but his injuries weren't life threatening.

Yet.


End file.
